Blackmail
by foxfirealchemist
Summary: Yoko Okamoto is a Jounin from the Village Hidden in the Sand, known specifically for her incredible...photography skills? Indeed, Yoko's power over the camera is unmatched, as is her collection of blackmail Gaararelated, that is.
1. Prolouge Meet Yoko

A/N: Hello! 3 This is my first Naruto fanfic, really, and I hope you enjoy it. x3

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters--though if I did my school would be in tatters by now--but the character of Yoko Okamoto is mine.

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Yoko Okamoto had always been known for a remarkable talent for photography. She could get any photo, anywhere, of anything; half the time without the one being photographed even noticing. It was well known that the Jounin also incredibly nosey, and greatly enjoyed digging up dirt for blackmail. She was as sneaky as a fox, and three times as fast; a deadly mixture.

The teenager hummed as she walked into her apartment, a camera held limply in her hand. Brown eyes flecked with blue sparkled as she set the expensive item on a desk before she wandered to the side, plucking a fat book from a nearby bookshelf. On the front of the canvas-covered book were the words 'Photo Album,' in large font.

The photo album was locked at the side and the lock was enforced with charka, proof that this particular album wasn't quite as innocent as a usual book of photos would be. The youth's fingers flew as she went threw a few complicated steps to open the lock, disarm the trap it triggered, and finally exposed the treasure the book was hiding. Blank pages.

Still humming she flicked through the pages, finding one that looked exactly the same as the others. Yoko reached into a pocket and drew out three new pictures and set them on the page, enforcing them with charka to make sure that no one would be stealing them any time soon, even if they got the book itself open. The pictures immediately disappeared, reappearing a few seconds later when the teenager used a couple handseals. Now the book was filled with pictures, the majority of them blackmail photos of various ninja from all over the place.

She flicked back to the front and smiled. There was a name at the top, as well as a photo of that person. The pages after this particular page would all be filled with blackmail of the ninja, until the next ninja's turn began. And the name that stood in bold on top of the page?

**Gaara of the Desert**

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x3

Please Review, and if you have any ideas for a character and/or blackmail for the character, please tell me and I'll be sure to try and add it in. D


	2. Just Friends

A/N: Well here you have it, the first chapter. 3 "Gaara: Just Friends" Enjoy! x3

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Yoko smirked as she turned the pages, glancing over the title of the next two pages--Just Friends in graceful script--before directing her gaze to the photos..

The first one was of Kankuro, looking towards--or rather past--the camera with a mixture of shock and confusion on his face. The puppet master's eyes were wide, his mouth open as he stared at someone standing apparently a bit behind the camera person. There was a large mirror behind the sand ninja, and reflected in it was a smirking Gaara, whose sand was holding up a pair of leather cuffs.

Kankuro's Point of View

I'll admit it, I hadn't been expecting anyone to bother me when I got home, especially not my little brother. But there he was, seconds after I walked in, standing in the doorway to living room with that usual blank look on his face.

At first, I hadn't thought anything of it and had continued on my way, heading straight for my room a bit down the hall. But then I heard a chuckle and turned, confused, as Gaara crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. I knew something was up then and I took a step back, barely noticing the mirror behind me. Wait, mirror? When had we gotten a giant mirror in the entry way…?

Subconsciously I noted that as incredibly weird, but the bulk of my attention was devoted to my brother, who had taken a step forward in response to my step back. And still that smirk was on his face, that creepy, sinister expression that /always/ ends in something bad. As to what was going to happen, well, I found out a few seconds later as the sand from his gourd began to move, rising up to waggle a pair of leather hand cuffs suggestively.

I swallowed and took another couple steps back, which he copied without a change in expression, though his eyes had narrowed and now had that 'resistance is futile' look to them. I sighed and swallowed again, well aware of what was going to happen next.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I'd rather take on a thousand enemy ninja than come home.

The jounin chuckled at the picture, remembering the two sand nin's expressions when she appeared out of nowhere and started cackling, waving her camera around victoriously. She had had to run quite fast to escape the wrath of the red-head, and was still having mysterious assassination attempts from a many-armed fellow that looked suspiciously similar to Kankuro's favorite puppet.

That reminded her; she still needed to retrieve her mirror from their house…

Now planning on a way to get the mirror without being attacked by sand, the youth glanced to the next picture, smiling fondly at it.

It was of Shikamaru, laying down on a worn-looking couch with one arm flung over his eyes. The Nara's mouth was open and he was shirt-less, looking so exhausted that it was obvious even in the photo that he was breathing heavily. A large, red-mark could be seen on the section between his neck and shoulder, and the wound was still bleeding slightly from where four sharp teeth had sunk in deeply. If one looked closely they could see a trail of sand running to this wound, absorbing the crimson liquid like it were a rare treat.

Shikamaru's Point of View

I was tired. Very, very tired. I laid--or rather fell--down on the couch with a sigh, my breath coming raggedly and my body adamantly refusing to move more than to allow me to fling an arm over my eyes; a futile attempt to block out the sunlight streaming in through a nearby window.

I gave a groan as I laid there, the pain in my shoulder starting to get on my nerves. It was a thrumming pain, and I swore that I could feel something squirming over it. A few seconds later and I knew what that something was; a little river of sand that made my chest a roadway as it swarmed to lick up that fresh blood. I mumbled something along the lines of my usual 'troublesome' and moved my arm slightly, glancing to the side where the cause of my exhaustion stood.

Gaara smirked at me, the fierce look in his eyes a little less sinister than usual as he stared me straight in the eye. I nearly gave a smirk in response, but decided that I'd rather give a sigh and move my arm back over my eyes. So I did, and a few minutes later I felt the sand recede, returning back to the gourd that the red-head carried around just about everywhere. It was on his back now, the strap crossing his bare chest. I wondered how he could stand the feel of that dry leather over his skin, but before I could even think about asking him, I heard the sound of him removing the gourd and letting it slip the ground with a loud 'thump.'

An few instants later and his hands were on me again, one drawing my arm away from my eyes and the other pinning my wrist to the couch as he leaned in and slowly ran his tongue over the sore spot he had made earlier. I sighed and gave the barest of shudders.

"Troublesome.."

Yoko gave the barest of snickers, remembering that particular scene well. The two hadn't even noticed her! Well, so she thought. Gaara /had/ tried to kill her--again--the next day, but she dismissed it as coincidence. After all, Gaara had a bad habit of trying to kill her quite a lot. She always had to be on her guard and had developed a tendency to avoid large areas of sand, like beaches. And deserts. And sandboxes…


End file.
